


Lost in Japan

by lostonplatform934



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Flying, Holyhead Harpies, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Mirror Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Romance, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pop songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostonplatform934/pseuds/lostonplatform934
Summary: Two weeks, six days, three hours and 42 minutes.That was how long it had been since Harry Potter had seen Ginny Weasley.And the lack of Ginny was thoroughly driving Harry mad.But he's a couple hundred miles from Japan, and he's thinking he could fly to her hotel tonight, 'cause he can't get Ginny off his mind.





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> I love Shawn Mendes' "Lost in Japan," even though it makes no geographic or logical sense, unless Shawn Mendes is A. a wizard OR B. singing about Harry and Ginny. I've chosen to go with the latter explanation. 
> 
> This story is so corny and a tad ridiculous, but has been so fun to write. It is mainly based on the song 'Lost in Japan," but also includes lots of references/lyrics from Shawn Mendes' various songs.
> 
> The rating and some of the tags are for later chapters.

Two weeks, six days, three hours and 42 minutes.

 

That was how long it had been since Harry Potter had seen Ginny Weasley.

 

It wasn’t the longest they had ever been apart. It didn’t come close to the length of time they had been separated during Ginny’s seventh year of Hogwarts or, worse, during the war, which they had spent not knowing whether the other was safe.

 

But it was the longest they had been apart since Harry moved into his girlfriend’s flat last year.

 

And the lack of Ginny was thoroughly driving Harry mad.  

 

He missed her laugh, the sweet smell of her hair and the mischievous glint in her eyes when she wore something to the Burrow that she knew he would find particularly irresistible.

 

He missed coming home to make them dinner and commiserate or regale each other with tales of their days. He missed returning home late from a mission to find her seemingly asleep in bed, until she curled into his body with a little yawn and soft kiss. He missed reaching for her after a nightmare and hearing her whispered words of comfort, helping him bear the pain. He missed waking up next to her warm body, making her breakfast as she shouted out the answers to the quizzes in the latest edition of the Quibbler. He missed when she tried to switch out his glasses with spectrespecs. He missed the way she scowled over whatever rubbish Rita Skeeter slabbed together in her column.

 

He missed her sometimes inappropriate jokes when she saw the boredom on his face at some Ministry function or any other scenario she deemed in need of levity. He missed the subconscious little jiggle she did when she listened to music as she folded laundry, the clothes falling haphazardly off the bed when she used her wand as a microphone.

 

He missed trying to make her laugh while she brushed her teeth and the frankly adorable glare she would send him when she accidentally dribbled toothpaste down her chin. He missed then wrapping his hands around her waist and kissing her cheek as she pretended to swat him with the towel she used to clean that toothpaste. He missed the feel of her lips on his, her sigh when he kissed his favorite freckle on her neck, the way she raked her hands down his chest until they reached….

 

Harry shook himself. He would have to tamp down those particular images when he was sitting next to the ambassador for the South Korean Ministry. This was, as Kingsley had reminded him what felt like half a million times, a very important diplomatic visit.

 

He had only been with the aurors for about 3 ½ years, so ordinarily he wouldn’t be on this type of trip. He didn’t technically have any decision-making power (even if, truthfully, the department often fell in line with his ideas). But he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and, apparently, the South Korean minister had wanted to meet him. So, Harry was dragged along to Seoul, where he had spent the past week in dull meetings and even duller dinner parties, where he had to answer all sorts of intrusive questions about the war, Voldemort and his private life. Before the visit, he had thought he would be saved by the language barrier, but, regretfully, it seemed many of their hosts knew English. Harry had resorted to simpering and complimenting the food and decor to try to avoid talking about his status as Savior of the Wizarding World.

 

The only minor consolation (if one could call it that) was that even if he were back home in London, he would be missing Ginny anyway. She and the Harpies were traveling for some international exhibition matches to prepare for the next season.

 

Still, their separation would not have been as lengthy if not for the South Korean visit.

 

She had left for matches in the United States two weeks, six days, three hours, and (Harry snuck a glance at Fabian Prewett’s old watch) 44 minutes ago. The day before she was supposed to return, Harry was called away to Northern Ireland to track a wizard suspected of killing his wife. Harry, Ron, Neville and a few of the other aurors caught the wizard hiding out in a seedy pub within a few days and dragged him back to London. But by the time Harry got home, Ginny had left for another match in Spain.  

 

That trip was short though, and they were supposed to have a week together before Ginny’s string of matches in Japan when Kingsley sprang the visit to South Korea on Harry.  

 

He had protested, even pulling out the “I died for the Wizarding World” card he so rarely played. But seeing as that was why Kingsley wanted him on this trip, it didn’t work very well. Harry’s presence apparently would go a long way to helping Kingsley and the other Ministry officials in brokering a new agreement with the country that would allow the Ministries to share resources to fight a dark wizard wreaking havoc in North Korea.

 

Hearing the terror that wizard was inflicting made Harry feel horrible enough to put aside his own bemoaning about missing his girlfriend. Besides, Harry knew he would feel guilty leaving Kingsley in the lurch. He was a great minister and deserved to succeed.

 

So, with Ginny’s promise that they would more than make up for lost time once they reunited, Harry resigned to go on the visit.

 

There were only two more days before Harry could go home. And then Ginny would return three days after that.

 

_Five more days._

 

Harry had handled two weeks, six days, three hours and--now--45 minutes.

 

He could handle five more days.

 

Right?

 

A tight cough broke Harry out of his reverie.

 

He looked up and realized everyone was standing up from the table. Kingsley was standing next to him, eyebrows raised.

 

“All right, Harry?” he asked, half-skeptical, half-amused.

 

The meeting, it seemed, was over. Thank, Merlin.

 

“Er, yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbled, getting up and shuffling the papers he had barely glanced at during the meeting, feeling Kingsley smirking at him. “Where to now?”

 

“We’re done for the night.”

 

“What?”

 

Harry whipped his head up from the papers. With all the meetings and late-night schmoozing at parties, Harry had been lucky to get back to his hotel room by midnight all week

 

“Well, as you surely just heard, since we all but signed that deal we’ve been trying to work out,” Kingsley began. There was no hiding his grin now, and Harry knew it was partially because he was pleased with the agreement and partially because he knew Harry hadn’t been paying a lick of attention. “We don’t have any meetings until 2 p.m. tomorrow.”

 

Harry sighed in relief.

 

“We eating dinner with the minister again?” Harry asked as they left the room.

 

“He has meetings with his department heads,” Kingsley replied. “So, you’re free tonight.”

 

Harry stopped walking and turned to Kingsley.

 

“So, you’re saying I don’t have to be anywhere until 2 p.m. tomorrow?”

 

Harry didn’t dare to hope that he truly would have no obligations for the next nearly 21 hours. Almost a full day!

 

Kingsley clasped his shoulder.

 

“Go relax, Harry. Explore the city. Do whatever you want. But I need you on your top form for that meeting tomorrow, so we can officially get that agreement signed.”

 

Harry didn’t need telling twice. He practically sprinted to his hotel room and tore off his stuffy robes as soon as his door closed. Harry didn’t care about exploring the city. He cared about talking to his girlfriend.

 

Not bothering to put his robes away or slip on a t-shirt, Harry collapsed in his boxers on the mattress and reached for his enchanted mirror on the bedside table. The mirror was nearly identical to the one his father and Sirius had used to communicate in detentions.

 

And Ginny had its twin.

 

She had found these mirrors in Diagon Alley a year or so ago and excitedly purchased them, knowing how much Harry regretted smashing the one Sirius had given him.

 

“So when we are apart, you’ll never be alone,” Ginny had said cheerily when she had surprised him with them. It hadn’t even been his birthday or Christmas. He had just gone home to find Ginny perched on his kitchen counter with the present in her hands. Harry still felt that twinge of amazement whenever someone gave him a gift for the holidays, but that happy bewilderment escalated whenever he received something for no reason--other than, as Ginny had said, “I love you.”

 

The mirrors had come in supremely useful whenever their jobs took them traveling, and Harry deeply regretted not having them during the war or Ginny’s seventh year. That year they had been dating, but forced to spiral in their grief in isolation while she was at Hogwarts and he was busy with auror training. It was precisely because of their separation during those dark years that it was so difficult to be without each other now. Any moment apart was a reminder of all they had lost and almost lost. But when Harry was with Ginny, those traumas felt bearable. She centered him.

 

He was pretty sure the mirrors were the only way he had survived the last two weeks, six days, three hours and 58 minutes. He frowned at Fabian Prewett’s watch. Had it really only been that long since they had been apart? It felt like two years, six months, three weeks and 58 minutes.

 

Propping himself up against the pillows, he called Ginny’s name, hoping beyond hope that her match had ended, that she was near the mirror.

 

There was a silence that seemed to Harry to stretch forever.

 

And then Ginny’s face emerged in the mirror.

 

She was gorgeous.

 

Whenever Harry saw her, he was struck by the fact that his memory never did true justice to her beauty, to the vibrancy of her hair, to the contrast between the smattering of her freckles and the paleness of her skin.

 

Harry felt his face split open with joy.

 

“Hey, you,” Ginny said smiling at him, bringing her hair to one side of her shoulder. It looked a little darker than normal, the color it had when it was damp from a shower, Harry realized.

 

“Hey, Gin.”

 

“Did you sneak away from some boring dinner party?”

 

“No boring dinner parties tonight. I’m off for the night. Off until tomorrow afternoon, actually. So I’m just lounging in bed.”

 

He angled the mirror so that she could see he was wearing nothing but boxers. Ginny bit her lip to stop herself from full-on smirking, and Harry felt quite proud of himself.

 

_So, we seem to be on the same page as to how we want this conversation to go_ , he thought. In recent days, they had both been so busy that they kept missing each other on the mirrors, so there had been no time for catching up, let alone anything that would _come_ to something even more pleasurable. But he couldn’t tell where she was or if she were alone. If she had just gotten out of the shower, she could still be in the locker room, surrounded by her teammates.

 

“What are you up to?” Harry asked, trying, but he was certainly sure failing, to sound casual.

 

“Just got back to the hotel,” she replied, her eyes glinting in that mischievous way he loved so much. “Match ended in less than an hour. We kicked their arses.”

 

“Of course. How many goals did you score?”

 

Ginny shrugged.

 

“Only five,” she said, sounding almost bored.  

 

“Only five,” Harry repeated, mocking her tone.

 

“Zoe scored eight.”

 

Zoe Wilson was one of Ginny’s fellow chasers and good friend.

 

“And you would have scored nine if Izobel hadn’t caught the snitch so soon,” Harry countered, referring to the team’s seeker.  

 

Ginny stuck out her tongue at him, and Harry had to refrain from groaning at the fact that he couldn’t reach into the mirror and kiss her.

 

“What time is it there?” he asked.

 

Ginny giggled.

 

“We’re in the same time zone, remember?”

 

Harry grinned.

 

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. We’re really not that far apart when you think about it. It’s got to be what--a couple hundred miles?”

 

“I think it’s much farther than that.”

 

She balanced the mirror against the wall in the hotel bathroom, so she could dry her hair with her wand as she talked to him. Normally seeing Ginny doing anything with her hair would have driven Harry crazy with lust, but he wasn’t paying proper attention because an idea was formulating in his mind.

 

“Do you got plans tonight?” he asked.

 

“We have team dinner in about 15 minutes.”

 

She sounded disappointed before she ducked out of sight and then re-emerged a moment later, a light green top in her hand.

 

“What do you think?” she asked, holding up the loose-fitting shirt. Harry gulped, realizing she was only wearing that black, lacy bra, the one he had unceremoniously removed the night before her trip to America. “This one? Or…”

 

She brought a black top into view.  

 

“This one?”

 

Harry swallowed. He was very blatantly not looking at the black shirt, and judging by Ginny’s raised eyebrows and the twist in her lips, she knew that. But Harry didn’t care, and if he knew Ginny like he thought he did, she didn’t either. If it had been two weeks, six days and--now--four hours and two minutes since he had been apart from Ginny, then it had been two weeks, six days, four hours and 12 minutes since he had seen her naked. And that was unacceptable.  

 

“Harry,” Ginny said in a sing-song voice. “I asked you a question. Green or black?”

 

She held up both tops.

 

“Neither. Skip the team dinner and spend the night with me.”

 

“Sorry, love. I don’t think Gwenog is going to let me miss team dinner so we can have mirror sex.”

 

“What if it didn’t have to be mirror sex?”

 

“What do you mean?” Ginny laughed and began brushing her hair.

 

“I’ve got an idea. And I know it sounds crazy. I just want to see ya.”

 

Ginny pouted.

 

“I know. I just want to see you, too. I miss you. So much.”

 

“I miss you, too,” Harry sighed.

 

They stared at each other for a while and Harry let himself get lost in her brown eyes, burning with longing.  

 

“I was thinking,” he said carefully, staring at his palms for a moment before looking back up at her bright eyes and continuing more hastily. “I could fly to your hotel tonight. ‘Cause I can’t get you off my mind.”

 

He mumbled the last part, so he wasn’t sure if Ginny had heard him over her snorting, “Yep, it does sound crazy.”

 

She surveyed the two shirts before slipping on the green top, as Harry moaned.  

 

“Come on, Gin. Why?”

 

“Don’t be a fool. You can’t fly here. You’re miles and miles away. There’s a whole ocean between us.”

 

“If this is what it takes to see you, I’d cross any ocean,” Harry said seriously. He meant it. He was ready to grab his broom right then.  

 

“That’s the corniest thing you’ve ever said,” Ginny giggled, beginning to apply some mascara.

 

“It’s true, love,” he insisted. “Do I got to convince you that you shouldn’t fall asleep?”

 

“Harry--”

 

“It’ll only be a couple hours and I’m about to leave.”  

 

He made to clamber off the bed.

 

“But I’ve got a team dinner soon,” Ginny said, looking crestfallen. “And practice in the morning. And I’m sure you’ve got a million meetings.”

 

“None of those meetings is as important as you,” Harry replied quickly. “The only thing I’m thinking about is you and I. ‘Cause I can’t get you off my mind.”

 

Ginny flashed him a sympathetic smile. He thought for sure that she would tell him _that_ was the corniest thing he had ever said.

 

But then she tossed down the mascara and exhaled, leaning down so she was level with the mirror, her chin resting on the bathroom sink.  

 

“I can’t seem to get you off my mind, either,” she whispered. “Every single night my arms are not around you, my mind’s still wrapped around you.”   

 

Harry could have called her out for the corniest line _he_ had ever heard, but instead he could only think of something else Ginny’s arms could be wrapped around.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. His voice was low, and his eyes urged her to continue. He could feel the tension between them. He could cut it with a knife.  

 

“I want you close to me,” she sighed, her voice filled with longing. “I want you close. I want you closer. I want all of you today.”

 

What the soft hum of Ginny’s voice was doing to Harry’s body proved just how long it had been since he had been with her. What she was saying should scarcely be arousing, and he didn’t think she was particularly trying to be. But when Ginny was concerned sometimes it all got a little too much. Harry couldn’t help himself, and he didn’t want to. He moved his hand slowly to his waistband.

 

“There is nothing I want more than to wake up to the sunrise, with you on my chest,” she continued.

 

She closed her eyes and let out a noise that was somewhere between a huff and a moan.  

 

“But,” Ginny said, her tone suddenly becoming sharper as she stood up. “I’ve got to go meet the team.”

 

“Ginnnnnnyyyy,” Harry whined. “Are you playing me? Is this a game?”

 

Ginny seemed to realize by Harry’s baffled and frustrated expression that she had gotten him worked up without intending to. She blushed slightly.

 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I love you, but I’m going to be late,” she said, flicking her wand and summoning her shoes. “But when I get back, we’ll talk again. All night, if you’d like.”

 

Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she winked at him, and Harry found he couldn’t be upset with her. That dinner was part of her job, and Harry wanted to support Ginny in everything.

 

“Okay,” he grumbled. “I love you and miss you.”

 

“I love you and miss you, too. So much.”

 

She blew him a kiss and then signed off.

 

Harry buried his head in the pillow with a groan. Being a supportive boyfriend really could be hard sometimes, particularly in this situation when he had started to get hard. These were the strings that came along with being the boyfriend of a professional Quidditch player. Harry wanted all the strings attached, he truly did. When he was lost in guilt or trauma, Ginny brought him back. For that, he would love her always and forever. 

 

Yet, he wished he didn’t have to wait until after Ginny’s team dinner to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her now. He wanted to see her--really see her, not through some mirror--now. Because when he was with her, he felt better.

 

Unable to help himself, Harry pulled out the informational packet the Ministry had given him for the trip and flipped to the map of the region. He studied it carefully. He had been wrong. It wasn’t two hundred miles to Japan. It was about 600 miles, in fact.

 

_That’s hours of flying_ , he bemoaned inwardly.

 

Well, his Firebolt could go 150 miles per hour. So, that would mean it would take about four hours to get to Ginny’s hotel. And another four hours to get back.

 

Harry checked Fabian Prewett’s watch. It was nearly 6 p.m.

 

He could mope and wank in his hotel room for the next 20 hours. Or he could have 12 hours of Ginny time.

 

That settled it.

 

There was nothing holding him back.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Ginny's hotel, but doesn't know her room number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this much later than planned. Sorry! It's been a crazy week or so. This chapter is also shorter and a bit of a filler one, but I hope you still find it fun.
> 
> Big shoutout to GryffindorHealer for helping me with the calculation from Seoul to Tokyo.

It was supposed to take four hours. It took over five. 

 

All because Harry got lost in Japan. 

 

He had miscalculated the distance between Seoul and Tokyo. It was 720 miles, not 600.  

 

Then, Harry spent way too much time flying around Tokyo trying to find Ginny’s hotel, and Hermione’s usually reliable “point me” spell wasn’t helpful enough when he was in the air, squinting at so many tall, apparently identical buildings. His glasses kept fogging up and he was positively freezing, no matter how many times he cast warming spells on himself. Flying for five hours in the middle of winter wasn’t his cleverest plan.  

 

His idea had been to fly right up to Ginny’s window and knock on the glass, but then he realized he had no clue which room she was in. Besides, Kingsley probably wouldn’t appreciate Harry risking the Statute of Secrecy so he could shag his girlfriend in a muggle hotel. Not that Harry was only going to visit Ginny to shag her. He truly wanted to see her. Any shagging would just be an added benefit--a very wonderful added benefit. 

 

He eventually landed in the most discreet alleyway he could find, vanished his broom and walked to Ginny’s hotel. The “point-me” spell, thankfully, seemed to work better on the ground, but Harry’s legs didn’t. They were cramped and could barely support his weight. He didn’t know how he could have gone on if Ginny’s hotel had been more than a half mile from where he had touched down. 

 

But when he arrived in the lobby, he realized he still didn’t know her room number or even what floor she was on. He had never asked because he didn’t think he would need the information. 

 

Hoping the Japanese concierge knew English like all of South Korea seemed to, Harry approached the woman at the hotel counter. 

 

“Er, do you know which room Ginny Weasley is staying in?” Harry asked. 

 

The woman frowned and raised her eyebrows at him. 

 

“Why?” she questioned hesitantly. 

 

Harry blinked at her for a moment, wondering why it wasn’t obvious why he wanted to see Ginny. (Ginny Weasley was brilliant. Why wouldn’t he want to see her?) But then he remembered the concierge was a muggle and had no idea who he or Ginny was. It was something Harry normally greatly appreciated about being in the muggle world, but now was rather a hinderance. He probably looked a right mess, too. He was shivering, he realized, and his hair was damp from the clouds, probably even more windswept than normal. The woman probably thought he was some creep or stalker. 

 

“Sorry, I’m, er, her boyfriend. I’m trying to surprise her, see? And, er--” Harry bumbled. 

 

“Harry?” 

 

He whipped around. 

 

A thin, small woman was standing in a Harpies sweatshirt, with a bemused expression on her face and her head cocked slightly. 

 

Never before had Harry been happier to see Izobel Elder, the Harpies seeker. 

 

“Izobel!” he cried. “Do you know where Ginny is?” 

 

“She’s up in her room,” Izobel replied, looking like she might start laughing. 

 

“Great! Do you know where that is?” 

 

Izobel snorted. 

 

“Come on, the Boy Who Couldn’t Live Two Weeks Without His Girlfriend,” she said, gesturing for Harry to follow. 

 

“It’s been more than two weeks,” Harry retorted stiffly, but then she saw he was leading her toward the stairs. He could barely walk on flat ground. There was no way he could manage stairs. “Please, no. Isn’t there an elevator?” 

 

She raised her eyebrows. 

 

“You can’t walk four flights of stairs? Aren’t aurors supposed to be athletic?” 

 

But she turned toward the elevators and pressed the “up” button. 

 

“I’ve just spent the last five hours on a broom. Give me a break,” Harry said testily as the elevator doors opened and they walked in. 

 

Izobel pressed the button for the fourth floor. 

 

“Five hours, pfft. And Ginny thinks you could’ve played pro. That’s like a Harpies warm-up.”  

 

That wasn’t true. Even on the monthly “Harpies Hell” days where they practiced for 12 hours, they weren’t on brooms for five hours straight. They took breaks and did other workouts to fill the time. And the whole team complained about those days endlessly. But Harry didn’t feel like arguing the semantics with Izobel. It would only lead to more taunts about her superior Quidditch skills.  

 

Izobel _was_ a bloody good seeker. Harry had lost count of the times he had tried to play against her, but he had not won once. And she loved to rub that fact in Harry’s face.  

 

Izobel, who had gone to Castelobruxo in Brazil, was the second youngest on the Harpies next to Ginny and the two were incredibly close. Ginny wouldn’t admit it because she wouldn’t want to minimize her bond with her fellow chasers, but Harry knew Izobel was Ginny’s favorite on the team. Harry wouldn’t admit it, but Izobel was not his favorite on the team. 

 

“It was five hours in the cold and I got lost in Japan,” Harry defended a little hotly. And then his stomach gave a great grumble, reminding him he had skipped dinner to go on this adventure “And I’m hungry, so it’s weakening me.” 

 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be eating something soon,” Izobel teased as the elevator doors opened and an elderly Japanese couple walked in. 

 

Mollified, Harry glared at her as the elevator continued its ascent. This was typical Izobel behavior, but he had hoped she would show more discretion in a public place. Of course, privacy and discretion weren’t really Izobel’s style. 

 

The first thing Izobel had asked Ginny, who was still on the reserve team at the time, was about how good Harry was in bed. Ginny’s answer must have been satisfactory because the first time Izobel met Harry, she implied she would be down for a threesome. Ginny, who was normally bizarrely jealous (she still didn’t complete trust Gabrielle Delacour, even though the girl was underage and Harry had never been the least bit interested), for some reason thought the comment hilarious. 

 

Harry would never completely understand Ginny’s friendship with Izobel, but he supposed it was probably because the seeker was such a free spirit. She was a bit like Luna if Luna talked about sex instead of mythical creatures and a bit like Fred if, well…

 

“Relax, Harry,” Izobel mumbled to him. “Chances are they don’t speak English.” 

 

“I don’t care,” Harry hissed back. He didn’t need implications of he and Ginny’s love of oral sex broadcasted to the whole hotel. 

 

The elderly couple got off at the next floor and, thankfully, didn’t give any indication that they had heard or understood Izobel’s comment. 

 

“See,” Harry said when the door had closed. “They took the elevator. And they only had to go one floor.” 

 

“They’re old,” Izobel countered. 

 

Harry was saved from replying by the elevator door opening onto the fourth floor. He bounded out, but then realized he had to wait for Izobel to tell him where to go. 

 

“Which room is she?” 

 

“Does Ginny know you’re coming?” 

 

Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks. 

 

“Er, no. It’s a surprise.” 

 

“And you’re sure she’ll be happy to see you?” 

 

“Course she will,” Harry snapped. How could she not be? He had just flown five hours to see her. He knew Izobel was just teasing him, but the question still irked him. 

 

“Well, don’t let Gwenog see you. You know what she always says. Ginny flies better when she’s, you know, wound up.” 

 

Izobel gave an exaggerated wink.  

 

“Oh, shut it, Izobel.” 

 

Izobel halted in the hallway. 

 

“This is Ginny’s room,” she said, lowering her voice. 

 

Harry’s stomach flip-flopped in anticipation. 

 

“It’s really her room? You’re not just pulling my leg?” 

 

“Nah, I’d never do that.” 

 

“Izobel--” 

 

“It’s really her room, Harry,” Izobel said seriously now. She started to head down the hallway and then turned back. 

 

“You kids have fun now,” she called. “And Harry--” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“If Ginny decides she’s bored with you or doesn’t let you in, I’m just two doors down.” 

 

She cackled at Harry’s scowl as she opened her door. Rolling his eyes, Harry raised a fist to knock on the door and then hesitated. What if Izobel was right? What if Ginny didn’t want to see him? She had told him not to come, after all. And she had practice in the morning and another match in the afternoon. And Harry had long worried Gwenog was right; What if Ginny did play better when she was, as Izobel had put it, “wound up?” He could jeopardize her ability to play well tomorrow.    

 

If Ginny did turn him away, Harry didn’t know what he would do. Get his own hotel room, he supposed. But he hadn’t brought much gold with him and didn’t think the muggle hotel would take galleons anyway. 

  
_Well_ , he thought, _hopefully Ginny will have mercy on me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to be upfront and clarify there will be NO threesomes in this story. After writing this, I worried I was foreshadowing that (and possibly getting people's hopes up, depending on their preferences). But next chapter is all Hinny and Hinny alone. I hope to post the next chapter soon, but I have 4th of July plans, so I'm not sure how soon that "soon" will be. 
> 
> This chapter has fewer Shawn Mendes references, just "Lost in Japan" and "Mercy." 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny had been expecting a call on her enchanted mirror from Harry when she hears a knock on her hotel door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post, but I hope the wait was worth it.

Ginny was slumped on her bed in sweatpants and Harry’s t-shirt. She had stolen it from his drawer in a flash of weakness when packing for Japan because she wanted some reminder of him. But after so many days of her wearing it to bed, it no longer smelled like him. That only made her miss him more. 

 

It took her back to that miserable moment on her 16th birthday when she had snuck up to Ron’s empty room just to smell a t-shirt Harry had left behind. She had felt then like a kid in love, like that little girl who had pined for her celebrity crush behind her bedroom door. She wasn’t that little girl anymore, yet she slipped the shirt in her suitcase to bring to Hogwarts. All she had was the scent of him. And she couldn’t bear to lose it. 

 

But the aroma of Harry faded away too soon with the absence of the man to emit it. She was left with a faded t-shirt that, judging by it size, had once belonged to Harry’s cousin. The sight of it became sickening. It was just another reminder that Harry was gone. 

 

Eventually, in a moment of desperation after a torture-filled session with the Carrows, she resorted to going to the boys’ dormitory on the pretense of visiting Neville. In reality, she just wanted to find something of Harry’s to remind herself that he was real, not the remnants of a sweet dream. Neville was kind enough to pretend not to know why she was there and suggested she stay the night. She curled on Harry’s bed and took in the smell of him on his sheets and pillows. But after several nights of sleeping in his bed, that scent died, too. 

 

She tried to move on, tried to forget him. But she held on. Her thoughts were consumed with him. She couldn’t write one essay without thinking about him, couldn’t drink without thinking of the butterbeers they shared that wonderful afternoon by the lake. She knew it then and she knew it now: Everything meant nothing if she couldn’t have Harry.  

 

Ginny didn’t like thinking about those times because they made her feel weak and vulnerable, and Ginny had spent every moment since the end of her first year trying to prove to herself and the whole world that she was the opposite. 

 

Still, she had admitted to Harry--in a slightly drunk post-coital moment during the winter break of her seventh year-- the embarrassing tale of the comfort she had taken in his shirt and sheets. 

 

He reminded her of what he had told her that summer--that he had spent months staring at her dot on the Marauder’s Map, hoping she was all right. And then he said if he had her shirt or sheets or anything of hers with him on his Horcrux hunt, he would never have let them go. 

 

So, Ginny told herself as she picked moodily at the hotel comforter, it was okay that she had taken Harry’s shirt. He would understand. 

 

 _And I’m mad at him anyway_ , she thought. 

 

There, she admitted it to herself. She was rather peeved with him. He had whined and complained when she had to go to her team dinner. For the whole meal, she had looked forward to talking to him and even begged off after one drink at the hotel bar with the team. Then, when she called him on the mirror, he didn’t answer. At first, she thought he was still at dinner himself, but more than five hours had gone by and it was unlikely that he was still eating. She couldn’t imagine that he would have wanted to get pissed at some South Korean pub when she was waiting for him. 

 

She told herself he was asleep or that he had gotten called into a boring meeting. 

 

 _Yes_ , _that’s it_ , she thought. _He’s asleep or in a boring meeting._

 

She repeated that several times to stop herself from picturing Harry wandering, lost in the streets of South Korea, where he would be attacked by escaped Death Eaters or some other dark wizards. 

 

Unwillingly, the image of Harry bloody and beaten on the sidewalk swam to the surface of her mind. She shook herself, but then could only see Harry seemingly lifeless in Hagrid’s arms. 

 

Groaning, she rubbed her temples, trying to scrub those pictures from her mind. They were always a side effect of missing him. She knew she should probably turn the lights off and go to bed. She had practice in the morning and a match in the afternoon, after all. But she was not the least bit tired. 

 

No matter. There were other ways she could occupy her time. 

 

She crept her hand beneath her sweatpants and tried to recall exactly how Harry had looked spread out in that hotel bed in nothing but his boxers. But the image of Harry--no matter how delectable--was not enough to satisfy her the way the Harry in flesh and blood could. 

 

She simply wanted the real Harry. 

 

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Assuming it would be Izobel and that she would at least prove a good distraction, Ginny rose from the bed. 

 

“Coming,” she called, speaking to her teammate before fully opening the door. “Izobel, I don’t--” 

 

Ginny’s mouth dropped. 

 

Standing in front of her was her rather disheveled, but very, very handsome boyfriend. 

 

Harry grinned sheepishly at her. He looked a bit like he had had a run-in with a dementor, but that his patronus had been so powerful that he had been left happier than before. 

 

The redness of his scar was shining in contrast to the paleness of his skin, making him seem a bit peaky, as if he hadn’t been eating well. (Ginny felt very much like her mother at the thought.) But she felt very unlike her mother when she got the urge to drag a hand through his hair to further ruffle it. It was sticking up at all ends, even messier than normal, while a beard was beginning to grow on his cheeks. Ginny was certain Harry had never looked better. 

 

“Hey, Gin,” he said, somehow sounding both cocky and nervous. He tugged at bit at the sleeve of his Harpies sweatshirt, the one with her name on the back and a permanent treacle tart stain on the front. Harry insisted it would be bad luck to clean it because he had excitedly knocked over the piece of tart while listening on the Wizarding Wireless to Ginny score what became a game-winning goal. 

 

His face started to droop, and Ginny realized she had been staring stunned at him for too long, her mouth open slightly. 

 

And then she was kissing him. 

 

Hard. 

 

She wanted all of him, her tongue frantically slipping through his lips, driving one hand through his irresistible hair and tugging his face down to hers. His locks were damp, but from rain or sweat or both, she didn’t care. She reveled in the feeling of his hair between her fingers, of dragging her nails across his scalp. It was a sensation she could never properly appreciate afterward, so she had to take advantage of it in the now. 

 

With Ginny’s lips, Harry seemed to get a surge of adrenaline because he wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed her almost roughly into the wall of her hotel room. The door slammed shut behind them, but Ginny scarcely noticed its bang, not when Harry’s hands were sliding to her bum, giving it a light squeeze. He lifted her thighs, bringing Ginny’s legs to straddle his waist. 

 

“What--are--you--doing--here?” Ginny gasped as Harry lips moved down her cheek to suck on the spot on her neck that contained what he deemed his “favorite” freckle. Ginny didn’t understand how he could pick out one in particular with the smattering on her skin, but she involuntarily let out a mewing noise all the same when he reached the area. His lips were a bit chapped and his cheeks scruffy, but the scratchiness tickled her pleasurably. 

 

“I--just--wanted--to--see--ya,” Harry replied in between kisses. “I was a couple hundred miles away--” 

 

Ginny, whose lips had been trailing along Harry’s earlobe, pulled away and took his face in her hands. 

 

“You were _not_ a couple hundred miles away,” she said sternly. 

 

“Fine, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted, pecking her on the tip of her nose. “But it was worth it.” 

 

He kissed her lips again and the two remained locked in sweet embrace before the need for air forced them to separate. 

 

“How was the team dinner?” Harry asked, more than a little breathless as his fingers toyed with the strands of her hair. 

 

“Fine,” Ginny said, bending to nibble on Harry’s neck. “The usual. Left as soon as I could so I could _call_ you.” 

 

She pretended to sound annoyed and fixed him with a faux glare, but then Harry slipped a thumb beneath her waistband and rubbed it along her hip and pelvic bones. 

 

“Sorry about that. Figured this was better.” 

 

His voice, low and husky, combined with the movements of his thumb, was already bringing a tingling feeling between her thighs. After all, it had been a long time coming.  

 

“Definitely.” 

 

And then their lips were on each other again. Hooked on his tongue, her body fitting right in his hands, Ginny couldn’t help thinking that every touch was _ooh la la_. Kissing Harry Potter was sometimes like the luxury of savoring a sweet piece of chocolate--warm, delicious and comforting. But tonight it was like the rush of racing on her broom to score a goal--desperate, glorious and exhilarating. She loved that about Harry. He could make her feel anything and everything. Ginny was certain she was the luckiest woman in the world. She couldn’t imagine many other boyfriends would cross oceans for their girlfriends, would traverse countries...

 

Ginny broke apart, her brain catching up with the logic of feasible apparation and other means of magical travel. 

 

“Wait, did you fly?” 

 

Harry nodded before drawing his lips southward to Ginny’s collarbone, stretching her shirt down to give himself better access to her chest. 

 

“Harry!” 

 

She meant to say his name in admonishment, but she was pretty sure it came out as a sigh.  

 

“How--long--did--you--fly--for?” 

 

The words were released in raspy puffs due to Harry sucking just above her right breast and her own effort to better angle herself to properly kiss him. With his head buried in her chest, she could only reach his hairline and that wasn’t enough. 

 

“Five hours,” he mumbled into her breasts. 

 

“Five hours!” Ginny cried, unraveling her legs from his waist and standing on her own. “Harry, you must be exhausted!” She touched his neck and realized how chilled his skin was. “And freezing!” 

 

“A bit,” Harry shrugged, kissing her fiercely again. “Nothing you can’t fix.” 

 

“Did you eat? Aren’t you hungry?” 

 

“I’ll eat later.” 

 

“Harry--” 

 

But Harry cut her off with a smoldering look. 

 

“Gin,” he said, cupping her cheek, his fingers curled in her hair. He smelled of broomsticks and the sweat of a long, hard fly. “Please don’t make me stand here in these clothes anymore.”  

 

His breath was hot on her, sending a tremor down her spine. The tingling between her thighs had already reached a throbbing point. She was burning for him, she realized. She wanted him bad. She needed him now. 

 

Ginny stood on tip-toes and wove her hands back into his hair, pulling him into a kiss. She was less aggressive this time, but still eager, smiling into his lips when she heard a rumble of pleasure escape him. She walked him backward until his legs bumped the bed, their mouths locked all the way. 

 

“If you insist,” she whispered when they broke apart, dragging one hand down to the hem of his sweatshirt and kissing him even more vehemently. Harry raised his arms and allowed her to break the kiss for a moment, so she could tug off the garment. As she threw it away, Harry tore off his own shirt hastily. The action dislodged his glasses, and Ginny fixed them, tittering as she did so. 

 

That tinkle of laughter spurred Harry to kiss her again, her lips trembling against his with the remnants of her giggling. Ginny pulled away slightly, so she could stare at Harry’s bare chest. 

 

“Hmm,” Ginny sighed, biting her lip and drawing a hand down his abs. “I’ve missed this.”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ginny replied, stepping back and indulgently wracking her eyes up and down Harry’s torso. Harry was still a bit scrawny, but auror training had helped him build up some more muscle. The perfect amount, Ginny thought. It was hard enough to keep other girls off of him, she told him once. She couldn’t imagine the challenge if he were even hotter. “Give me a moment to appreciate.” 

 

“Well, it’s not fair. You’re still clothed,” Harry teased, but he used the moment to unbuckle his own pants. Ginny giggled again when he nearly tripped trying to pull them off. 

 

“Smooth.” 

 

Harry stuck out his tongue.

 

“Need I remind you, I’ve been flying for five hours.” 

 

 Ginny strode forward to capture his lips. 

 

“Let’s get you to bed, Potter,” she murmured. 

 

She pushed him backward onto the rumpled bed sheets and straddled his waist, dragging her hands down his chest before kissing him. 

 

Propping himself up on one elbow, Harry toyed with the hem of her shirt--well his shirt. 

 

“This looks familiar,” he smirked.   

 

“Yeah, borrowed it somewhere,” Ginny replied lightly, her tongue flicking out flirtatiously through her teeth. “Can’t think of where.” 

 

“How ‘bout we get it off, yeah?” 

 

Harry dragged his hand beneath the top, leaving Ginny to groan her assent with the feel of his skin touching hers.  

 

Once the shirt was discarded in some unknown part of the room, Harry’s mouth went to her breasts, while one hand ran up and down her back before finding her bra strap. 

 

“I really like this bra, but I think it’s time for it to go,” Harry said, fumbling to unbuckle it. Laughing, Ginny reached back to help him and soon the bra joined the rest of their clothes.

 

Harry’s tongue played with her nipples, while Ginny locked her legs tighter around his hips, sighing at the friction their bodies created when she ground into him. She trailed her hands down his chest, the movement of her hips slowing when her fingers fluttered lightly over the mark left by the killing curse. She kissed it delicately, closing her eyes and pushing down the memories that particular scar brought. Sensing her thoughts, Harry pulled away from her breasts and kissed her lovingly on the mouth. Ginny focused on the taste and smell of him, the way his lips and tongue moved with hers, the feel of his hand tangled in her mane, his calloused fingers stroking her scalp. Because it was all proof that Harry was real, that he was here.  

 

Harry’s free hand gripped her back, dragging their bodies closer together, his legs entwining with hers. His other arm left her hair for her waist, holding onto her tightly. 

 

And then Harry was on top of her, Ginny landing on the pillows with a little “oof.” 

 

His lips traveled down her chin and neck to her breasts, one hand twerking a nipple, the other sliding further southward. She let him take control, squirming in anticipation of his fingers, her nails digging into his back. His kisses progressed down her stomach, leaving Ginny to worm her hands through his hair, releasing a pleading sound when his lips reached the waistband of her sweatpants. She lifted her hips eagerly, so he could remove them. She expected him to do so swiftly, but he was methodical, shifting them midway down her bum and pausing to kiss a curl poking out of her knickers, perhaps appreciating the fact that it had been so long since anyone besides Ginny had seen what was beneath them.   

 

Ginny swore.

 

But the expletive wasn’t the one of pleasure she usually gave when Harry reached that region. 

 

“Wait, Harry. Stop.” 

 

Harry froze, looking up at her quizzically with one hand curled around her waistband, the other hovering over her knickers. A flush covered his cheeks and chest, his lips swollen, his glasses askew and his hair somehow even more mussed than before. His hardness was pressed against her leg. 

 

“Did you forget to take the contraceptive potion?” he asked hesitantly, a little desperation in his voice, like he was hoping that was the reason for the halt and not that she had changed her mind. They could cast the contraceptive spell to deal with the former. But if it were the latter, he would have flown to Japan for her conversation only (and Ginny was a great conversationist, but if they had only wanted to talk, they could have used the mirrors).   

 

“No.” Ginny bit her lip. “Er, I haven’t shaved in over a week.” 

 

Harry stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. 

 

“Gin, do you think I give a shite about whether you’ve shaved?” 

 

“But my legs are really hairy,” Ginny protested. _And other parts of me_ , she thought. 

 

“So are mine. Hair-y is my name after all.” 

 

Ginny ignored the lame joke. 

 

“But you aren’t used to mine being hairy,” she said with a frown, trailing a hand down Harry’s arm, feeling the hairs there. He shivered. “They’re usually smooth.” 

 

The logical part of her knew it was sexist and silly that she had to go through the chore of extracting every hair follicle from her body, while Harry didn’t even have to take a razor to his face unless he wanted to. Yet, she couldn’t help feeling unattractive and uninviting when her skin wasn’t silky sleek.  

 

“It’s embarrassing,” she said finally.  

 

Harry kissed her ardently. 

 

“Gin, you could never shave again and I would still think you’re bloody beautiful.” 

 

With his face hovering over hers, Ginny could see the sincerity in his shining green eyes and a blush rose to her cheeks. The problem was less Harry thinking she wasn’t beautiful and more herself thinking she wasn’t beautiful. But hearing Harry’s declaration and seeing the wanton desire in his irises were enough to set those nagging insecurities aside for now. 

 

“Now, may I?” he asked, his fingers playing with her waistband. 

 

Ginny nodded her permission for Harry to slide off her sweatpants. He brought his lips down with them, kissing her ankle and then all the way back up one of her legs, paying even greater attention to the appendage than he would normally. Ginny was sure he was determined to prove he found her attractive, despite the prickles. Ordinarily, she would tell him to get on with it because that spot between her legs was really demanding attention. But it simply felt good to feel loved. 

 

The tickling sensation of his light kisses made her let out a soft giggle. He smiled up at her through the glasses that had fallen to the bridge of his nose, a mixture of mirth and lust was in his eyes. Then, he bent down to suck on the inside of one thigh, while his fingers rubbed circles into the other. She could hear her own heavy breathing, feel her chest rising and falling, and she had to grip the sheets to prevent from touching herself. She wanted to wait for his lips to undress her. When he reached her wettening knickers, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the extra curls sticking out of them. Ginny was about to thrust her hips into him when he moved upward to kiss her fiercely on the lips. 

 

There was something about that kiss and the earnestness and devotion he poured into it that made Ginny Weasley fall even more in love with Harry Potter. She had thought her heart had been unable to contain any more love for the man, but she had been proven wrong by the warm intensity of his lips on hers.  

 

He had missed her so much he had flown five hours to see her. She had to show him just how much she appreciated that. 

 

Wrapping her hands around his shoulders, Ginny used all her strength to flip them. Again on top, she held Harry down with both arms and rocked her hips against him. 

 

“You should really just relax after your long flight,” Ginny advised coyly. 

 

Harry looked like he might respond, but then Ginny scratched her nails down Harry’s chest and he inhaled. Feeling the bulge in his boxers, Ginny ground into it before slipping her hand beneath the fabric. She grinned when she found what she was looking for and heard Harry again suck in his breath with her first stroke, his eyes fluttering closed for several seconds and then opening again, his face screwed up in concentration.  

 

“Which team are you playing against tomorrow, again?” he choked out. 

 

Ginny paused her ministrations for a moment and gave him an incredulous look. He did this sometimes, tried to make conversation when they were really worked up. She suspected it was some bizarre, noble attempt to prove to himself he wasn’t taking advantage of her or something--as if she didn’t want this as much as he did. This tendency had been most prominent during the summer after the war and her seventh year, but she had thought he had finally grown out of it. 

 

“Harry, why are you talking?” she snorted. 

 

“Sorry. Just missed talking to you,” he breathed, smiling weakly at her.  

 

Ginny melted. This time, he wasn’t simply trying to be noble. He had longed for her presence as much as she had during their separation. 

 

She cupped his cheek and kissed him passionately, trying as he had to pour all their lost time and love into her touches. 

 

“I did, too,” she murmured. “But let’s save the talking for later, yeah?” 

 

They fell into their familiar routine, perfected from years of lovemaking--years filled with learning the other’s body and listening to the other’s desires. 

 

Their knickers and boxers were soon discarded, and not long after Harry slipped one, then two, fingers inside Ginny, leaving her sighing and begging him for more.  

 

All of him entered her upon her urging. They thrust together, hands and lips circling each other’s skin, reveling in the pleasure they were giving to the other as much as they relished their own bliss. They got lost in the paradise of their joined bodies, kissing to muffle the cries of their mutual release.   

 

***

 

When Ginny recovered enough to move, she kissed Harry sloppily on the cheek and rolled off his chest. Harry pulled her back into him, encouraging her to nuzzle into his side and rest her head on his shoulder. 

 

“That was brilliant,” Harry sighed, his voice a little raspy, drawing patterns along Ginny’s bare back. 

 

Ginny kissed his shoulder. 

 

“Always is.” 

 

Harry smiled at her. 

 

“I love you,” he said. 

 

She raised her head to kiss him softly on the lips. 

 

“I love you, too,” she whispered. And then she grinned, giving his stomach a pat. “Now, how about we get you some food?” 

 

“Yes!” Harry moaned vehemently. “I’m starved.” 

 

Ginny sat up to grab the room service menu from the drawer of the bedside table and they selected copious amounts of Japanese food and dessert. They didn’t know what they would like, and Harry was so hungry he could have eaten it all. 

 

After Ginny ordered and they learned it would be another half hour before the food arrived, they realized they had plenty of time for a second round. This time, they got each other off with their mouths before Harry slid inside Ginny, him finishing only once she had mewled his name. 

 

Ginny was trying to convince Harry, who was fighting his drooping eyes, to take a nap when a knock on the door alerted them to the arrival of their food. Ginny accio’d her bathrobe from the bathroom before answering the door.

 

“So, how long do I have you for?” Ginny asked when they settled into the food. 

 

“I have a meeting at 2 tomorrow,” Harry sighed, but then groaned in relief as he bit into a large piece of fish. He added through a full mouth, “This is really good.” 

 

Ginny snorted. 

 

“I knew we should have eaten first. I think you got more pleasure out of that fish than--” 

 

“No way,” Harry cut her off. “And is wearing that bathrobe really necessary?” 

 

She rolled her eyes, but disrobed before taking a spoonful of rice. She had eaten dinner, but that had been hours before and their activities had made her hungry. 

 

“So, what team _are_ you playing tomorrow?” Harry asked, turning to the rice, too.

 

They fell into comfortable conversation, Ginny detailing the strengths and weaknesses of the Harpies’ competitor for the next day’s match and Harry bemoaning the paperwork, meetings and responsibilities that would keep him from watching it. Ginny teased Harry for not choosing a cooler career and Harry pretended to be annoyed when she stole food off his plate. The back-and-forth was so much better when they could see the laughter in each other’s eyes before the sound flowed from the other’s mouth. It was so much more pleasant when they could lean over and kiss each other for no other reason than they wanted to. None of that was possible over a mirror. 

 

“So, you have a meeting at 2, which means you have to leave at 9 at the latest,” Ginny said as Harry dug into the soba. “That means we have--” 

 

She glanced at the clock and her face fell. They had just over seven hours. And Harry would have to sleep soon if he could hope to have any energy to fly back. She couldn’t fathom how he was still awake. 

 

Harry put a hand on her knee. 

 

“Let’s not think about that,” he said softly. “Let’s just make the most of tonight.” 

 

“Oh, I have every intention of making the most of tonight.” 

 

Ginny kissed him. She meant it to just be a peck, a prelude for more, but as soon as her lips touched his, she couldn’t bear to let him go. The kiss might have lasted their whole remaining seven hours. 

 

When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. Ginny’s heart warmed at the sweet aftertaste of Harry on her tongue. She knew he would leave her with memory of that kiss, with the smell of him on her sheets. 

 

But for now, she would get lost in him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Thank you so much for reading this story! 
> 
> The Shawn Mendes songs referenced in this chapter are:  
> "Kid in Love"  
> "If I Can't Have You"  
> "Never Let Me Go"  
> "Mutual"  
> "Lost in Japan"  
> "Senorita"  
> "Aftertaste"

**Author's Note:**

> Math and geography are not my strong suits, but I don't think it's possible to be 200 miles from Japan, so that's why I put Harry a little farther away in South Korea. And I hope I did the math right to determine how long it would take Harry to get there, but correct me if I'm wrong. 
> 
> This chapter includes references to the following Shawn Mendes' songs:  
> "Lost in Japan"  
> "This is what it takes"  
> "Never be alone"  
> "Don't be a fool"  
> "When you're ready"  
> "Mutual"  
> "A little too much"  
> "Fallin' all in you"  
> "Strings"  
> "There's nothing holdin' me back" 
> 
> Let me know if there are songs you would like referenced in chapter two.


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